Cat Tales #1 (Introductions)

Stella, my cat, keeps track of her days. I just wish she wouldn't type it out. (Originally posted 8/07)

*Poster’s Note: Stella, one of my cats, approached me last week sometime and said she’s going to start keeping a little diary. I laughed it off but when she approached me the other day with her first entry, she also insisted I post it on this site. I told her it was only for humans but she didn’t want to hear it. She insisted. So here it is. This is her first entry, copied and pasted directly from the word document she emailed me. When I woke up this morning, she was working on the second entry. She seems pretty serious about this. Yet who am I to try to stop her, to stunt her creativity? So here it is. The first entry of an unknown amount of entries to come.

Entry #1

August 9th, 2007 A.D.C. (Awesome Domestic Cat)

Please, let me introduce myself. The one that feeds me, who will be called Two Legs from now on, calls me Stella. I have several nicknames, too, such as Stella Blue, Ms. Blue, Stella Bella, and Stinkface, to name a few. I would tell you his name but I don’t really know it. All I know of him is that he feeds me, scratches my back (which feels almost holy, by the way), and walks on two legs, hence the name. But he’s a good guy. Otherwise I would’ve packed up my litter box and left long ago.

There is also another one of me that lives here. Two Legs calls him Alo, or phonetically “ah-low.” He can be moody sometimes but he’s a blast to run with. He was here already when I got here so it took a little time for him to get used to me. But with these looks, it was only a matter of time. He thinks he owns the place but only because I let him think that. Of the three of us, I’m the cutest. And we all know that being cute is like having a royal flush in the poker game of life.

I am an all black cat with round, copper eyes. I’ve heard Two Legs mention I’m part of a breed called Bombay but I don’t know what that means. I mean, I’ve never even been to Bombay. But it sure as hell sounds exotic, doesn’t it? I like exotic. Exotic is my middle name. Wait, I don’t have a last name. Nevermind.

I’m not too sure of my real age. Life seems to move by at a pretty quick clip. Maybe it’s because most of it is spent sleeping. However, I have heard Two Legs mention the phrase “typical pre-teen behavior.” Whatever. Like, seriously. That’s just harsh. Alo is about twice my age and Two Legs never says anything when he’s being a menace. I don’t hear “twenty-something ego-maniac” or “I fear for the future.” I’m always the one that gets blamed for everything. But remember, I can play the cute card. In fact, I do it all the time and Two Legs falls for it all the time, too. Sucker.

Anyway. That’s enough for now. My paw is starting to hurt from this hunt-and-peck style of typing. What I wouldn’t give for a pair of thumbs. It’s a cruel world, dear reader. Cruel world.

Until next time, remember this: you can pick your cats, you can pick your nose, but you can’t pick your cat’s nose.